A Gleeful Noise
by MizJoely
Summary: Set during Sherlock's recovery from being shot. John comes to the flat to discover his friend watching an American TV show...and is surprised by the reason for it. Sherlolly of course, with a dash of angsty Warstan (cause of when it's set). Rated T for mentions of sex.


_From Sienna Maiu (fanfic) Nov 19, 2013: Sherlock and Molly are together. He decides to fix some of the things ruined for her by previous relationships. Starting with Glee. It turns out, she'd never much cared for Glee before, she just thought it might be something her gay boyfriend might enjoy._

_From MizJoely Apr 17, 2014: I am shockingly, horribly late with this prompt. I apologize for the ridiculously long wait and also for the fact that it turned out to be just as much about John and Mary as it did about Sherlock and Molly. Hope you like it anyway!_

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"Sherlock, what are you doing?"

John entered the flat while he waited for his friend to answer the question he'd just put to him. As he could have predicted, Sherlock ignored him. "You're supposed to be in bed, recovering from your little escape from the hospital," John tried again, moving into the kitchen and settling the Tesco's bags on the table. Sherlock, who was at least lying down on the sofa in his dressing gown and favorite pyjamas, merely grunted and continued to stare intently at the computer balanced precariously on his knees.

Sherlock had been home from the hospital – officially this time – for two weeks now, and John had been staying at Baker Street with him, both in a medical capacity and because he was still wrestling with his feelings regarding his wife's secret past. What exactly that secret past entailed – aside from her being a crack shot, an expert code breaker and a fantastic liar – was still a mystery, as he had been unable to bring himself to read the jump drive she'd given him.

That, however, was a problem he would (as he had been) temporarily put aside in order to deal with his troublesome former (and once again) flatmate. He opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of the vitamin-infused water he'd been forcing Sherlock to drink to keep himself hydrated, walking back into the sitting room. He set the bottle on the coffee table and glanced down at the screen to see what had his friend so engrossed.

John did a double-take; surely that wasn't…no, it couldn't be! "Sherlock, are you watching 'Glee'?" he asked, doubting his own memory. He'd not watched the show regularly since the girlfriend who'd loved it three or four years ago, but he was certain he recognized some of the characters; the track-suited blonde was hard to forget, even if he couldn't recall the name of the actress (Jane or Joan, something?) playing her.

Sherlock gave a heavy sigh; John could practically hear his eyes rolling in his head. "Yes, John, I'm watching 'Glee'," he confirmed, sounding a bit pained. "No, it's not for a case, although I considered lying and saying it was. But you seem to get upset when I lie to you, so I thought I'd try honesty and see how it went."

Oh, the sarcasm, how could John have _ever_ thought he missed the infuriating, condescending sarcasm when Sherlock had been 'dead'? He bit back a retort, opting instead to thrust the opened bottle of water into Sherlock's hands. "Drink this," he ordered, lifting the laptop up and setting it on the table. The volume was turned down so low he could hardly hear it, but yeah, there it was, the singing that had driven him nuts once upon a time. He'd never been one for musicals, and to have to watch episode after episode of such drivel had to have been part of what drove him and – what was her name, again? Theresa, Monica, something like that? – apart back in the day.

He watched as Sherlock downed about half the bottle of water, proving (to John's disapproving satisfaction) that he hadn't been doing anything he'd been told to do. Honestly, the man was worse than a toddler, but it could be looked at as practice for when the baby was born.

Thinking about the baby meant thinking about Mary, which just churned up his guts, so he stopped thinking about the baby-to-be and stuck with dealing with the baby-on-hand, namely Sherlock bloody Holmes, world's worst patient. "So why are you watching 'Glee' if it's not for a case?" he asked.

Sherlock looked shifty, and John's instincts went on alert. "Sherlock, why are you watching an American programme about singing students if not for a case?" he pressed, mentally going over his friends' past behaviors when on drugs, trying to remember if he'd watched telly while high, and if so, was it ever anything but rubbish daytime panel shows.

"I'm not high, John," Sherlock said irritably, accurately deducing John's concerns. "I've been weaned off the morphine, and I told you, I was only taking drugs for the Magnussen case." He snorted and crossed his arms (a good sign, actually, as he hardly even winced in pain as he did so). "Uselessly, as it turned out, but not all criminals are terminally dull, I suppose."

John decided he'd reserve judgment and crossed to his chair, settling in and pointing at the bottle of water Sherlock still held. "Finish that," he ordered, nodding his head at it. Sherlock pouted but did as he was told, draining the water to the last drop, then making a face and tossing the empty plastic container in John's general direction. "So if you're not on a case – not that you should be, since you're supposed to be on strict bedrest while you recuperate – and you're not high, then why are you watching 'Glee'?"

He honestly wanted to know at this point, it was such atypical behavior for his friend. Before he could press him further, however, he heard footsteps running lightly up the stairs and half-rose to see who it was.

He was astonished to see Molly Hooper peeping around the door. "Oh, hi John," she said, giving an awkward little smile before coming fully into the flat. "I didn't think you'd be here so early, didn't you have a shift at the clinic today?"

She was carrying a bag that looked suspiciously like it held takeaway, and he gave Sherlock a little scowl before standing up walking over to her. "I finished up early," he replied, focusing on the bag in her hands. "He's not supposed to eat anything too heavy, did he talk you into getting him chips?" Because, yes, now that he was closer, that was exactly what he was smelling. And it smelled delicious and he had every intention of eating Sherlock's portion if Molly had purchased any for the recovering consulting detective.

Molly's smile faded, "Oh, no, John, these aren't for him, they're for us – you and me, I mean," she corrected herself as she thrust the bag into his hands and shrugged out of her jacket. She turned and hung it neatly on the hook next to Sherlock's Belstaff. "Sherlock said you would be home for dinner tonight, so I picked up extra on my way over."

John gave Sherlock a confused glance; he hadn't realized the two of them had made things up since The Slapping Incident at St. Bart's. "Oh, uh, thanks," he said as he took the plastic bag with its two Styrofoam containers into the kitchen. "I am a bit hungry, now that you mention it."

"As am I," Sherlock called from the sofa, sounding extremely annoyed. Before John could remind him that he was on a low-salt, low-fat diet, he heard Molly telling him in a cheerful voice to shut it.

There was silence after that, and John peeked around the kitchen door to make sure Sherlock wasn't giving Molly the silent treatment for forcing him to follow doctor's orders. What he saw nearly made him drop the container he was holding; Molly was kneeling on the floor by Sherlock's side, her head extremely close to his. So close, in fact that their lips were touching. No, not just touching – _kissing_. Sherlock and Molly were kissing. Right there in the sitting room, Molly's hand on Sherlock's shoulder and his hand curled around the back of her neck.

John gaped at the snogging couple until they finished, Molly smiling fondly at something Sherlock murmured, too low for John to hear. He shook his head and turned back to the kitchen, fetching flatware and napkins almost automatically as his brain tried to process what his eyes had just seen. Sherlock and Molly, kissing. It couldn't be, there had to be some other explanation. Like hallucinations from not getting enough sleep. Or maybe it was some kind of joke being played on him? No, Molly would never let Sherlock use her like that. She was no Janine; she knew Sherlock far too well (just like Mary, his mind whispered) to fall for anything like that. And he hadn't been sleeping well, that was true, but he wasn't to the point of hallucinating just yet.

Which left only one possibility. "Did I just see you two snogging?" he demanded as he burst out of the kitchen, still clutching two forks and two knives in one hand and several bunched-up napkins in the other.

Molly, who was still kneeling on the floor with Sherlock's hand on her neck, looked up at him blushing a bit as she said, "Well, I was kissing him hello, if that's what you mean, John."

"And I was kissing her hello as well," Sherlock replied in a bored tone. "It's what one does when one is in a relationship, isn't it? Kiss each other hello and goodbye?"

"A relationship…you're trying to tell me you two are in a…when did this start?" John demanded, knowing that if either one of them told him to swan off, that it was none of his business, they'd have the right – but also knowing he wouldn't be able to let it go until he got some answers.

"I came to see him in hospital after he was readmitted," Molly said while Sherlock toyed with her hair. He tugged the ponytail holder loose and the long chestnut tresses fell free. She shook her head and gave Sherlock an annoyed look, but he only grinned at her. She rolled her eyes but grinned back before returning her attention to John. "He apologized for being such an ass, I apologized for slapping him, even though we all know he deserved it," she added, giving Sherlock a severe look, which he pointedly ignored in favor of closely examining a handful of her hair. "We started talking about the case, and well," she shrugged. "I guess we sort of worked things out. Admitted our feelings and all that."

"And he's not using you, this isn't part of some master plan to bring down Magnussen?" John couldn't help asking. He could see how differently Sherlock was acting towards Molly, far more natural and comfortable looking than he'd been with Janine, but it had to be asked.

Instead of looking upset or uncomfortable, Molly laughed. "I owe Sherlock five pounds," she said ruefully. "He predicted you'd ask that, and I told him you wouldn't, that you knew me better." She rose to her feet, tugging her hair free from Sherlock's grip and ignoring his grunt of protest as she did so. "John, look, this thing between me and Sherlock…it's been building for years. We probably would have gotten together as soon as he got back to London, if I hadn't been so busy fooling myself that I wanted a life with Tom." There was a sadness in her eyes as she said her ex-fiancé's name, but no regret that John could see or hear. She gave Sherlock a fond smile before reaching out to squeeze John's hand. "I promise, John, Sherlock's not using me, he's not faking it, and I damn well know he's not doing drugs because one of the things he does for me every morning after you go to work when I stop by on my way to Bart's is pee in a cup for me."

That was unexpected, but it made John smile. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "It's just…the whole Janine thing – you do know about the Janine thing, yeah?" he asked in sudden concern. It would be just like Sherlock to finally decide he wanted a relationship with Molly Hooper but not tell her about the stunt he'd pulled with Mary's bridesmaid and the fake engagement.

Thankfully she nodded. "Yeah, he told me. Made him promise not to do something that idiotic ever again. And honestly, John, did you think I somehow missed all those lovely headlines when she sold her story to the press?" She shook her head and giggled. "Sir-Shag-A-Lot, I liked that one. Is this for me?"

John stared at the apparent non-sequiter, then realized she was asking about the flatware and napkins. "Yeah, the food's in the kitchen," he said, starting to turn and fetch it, but Molly stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"No, I'll get it, John. You just have a seat, okay? I know where the salt and pepper and vinegar are.

John settled back in his chair, still feeling somewhat dazed. "So you and Molly," he said, feeling a strong sense of déjà vu as he looked as his friend.

Sherlock nodded. "Me and Molly," he confirmed. "Three weeks and counting. I still don't understand how she puts up with me, but I suppose the sex will make up for a lot once I'm well enough to live up to my media reputation."

John's head was spinning, and he couldn't help a fleeting thought that he must have bumped his head or fallen down the rabbit hole. His life these days was one long game of 'things aren't what you think they are' and frankly he was getting a bit tired of it. At least this time it wasn't 'your wife is actually a former assassin for the CIA or some other clandestine government operation', but it was still an unexpected (but not unpleasant!) change. And to hear Sherlock speaking so casually about having sex with Molly one day, after he'd admitted to only stringing Janine along in that department… "So 'The Virgin' won't be your nickname any more, eh?" he asked, knowing it was a feeble joke as soon as the words left his lips. He was glad Molly was still clattering around in the kitchen and (hopefully) hadn't heard him.

Sherlock frowned and carefully maneuvered himself into a fully sitting position on the sofa. "I haven't been a virgin since before started uni, John," he said. "Moriarty and the Woman were simply having a little joke at my expense, because I put that part of myself in a box and locked it away once I graduated."

"And now, what, you've decided it's time to open the box?"

Sherlock nodded, as it that were a perfectly reasonable thing to ask and had no double meaning behind it (unintentional, of course; John prided himself on not being crude). "I love Molly," he said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world and not something his best friend had never expected to hear him say. Ever. "She loves me. I will endeavor to make her happy, although I'm confident I'll fail. But I'll do my best." He sounded utterly serious, and John believed every word. "And one of the things I want to do for her is help her enjoy some of the things Moriarty ruined for her when they were dating."

Understanding dawned. "That's why you're watching 'Glee'," John said, nodding at the now-closed laptop sat on the coffee table. "I remember she blogged about watching it with 'Jim from IT'," he added, frowning at the memory. "Now she, what, associates it with him and stopped watching it?"

Sherlock nodded. "Exactly. I've caught up to where she was when she stopped, so we can talk intelligently about it – or as intelligently as possible considering it's utter crap," he added in a low voice, keeping one eye on the kitchen door. Molly really was taking her time in there, and John suspected it was deliberate on her part. Letting the boys have their chat, he supposed. Good of her to do so, but then, Molly had always been good at things like that. "Once I've finished this last episode, we can watch the rest together."

"Watch the rest of what together?" Molly asked brightly as she entered the sitting room. She held a tray on which rested the two containers of fish and chips, the salt and pepper shaker, the bottle of vinegar and two glasses of wine. "I thought you two would be talking about what a terrible mistake I'm making and how Sherlock is going to break my heart or some rubbish like that." She smiled to show she was joking before setting the tray on the coffee table and sitting next to Sherlock. "Budge over," she ordered, and he carefully swung his legs down to give her room. She fussed with his dressing-gown, then took a sip of her wine. "So. Watch the rest of what?" she asked again, looking from Sherlock to John and back again.

John shrugged and began tucking into his dinner, leaving it up to Sherlock to explain to his – girlfriend? – what they'd been discussing.

Sherlock sighed loudly. "I wasn't quite ready to tell you, but since John decided to show up early tonight and spoil the surprise…I've been watching 'Glee' and only have this last episode," he nodded at his laptop, "to finish. Then we can watch the rest together."

Molly stared at him blankly, and John felt a grin tugging at his lips. Oh, this ought to be rich. "'Glee'?" she repeated, sounding doubtful. "Why would we watch 'Glee' together? Is it for a case?'

Sherlock looked just as perplexed as his girl…nope, still didn't sound right, John thought with an internal chuckle. "No, it's just…you haven't watched it since you broke up with Jim Moriarty, I know you haven't. Not even with Tom. I deduced it was because you associated it with an unhappy time in your life, and was attempting to remedy that unhappiness by helping to create new memories. However, I have the strong feeling that I've been wasting my time these last few days."

Molly's giggles, which had been threatening the entire time he spoke, finally erupted at his disgruntled conclusion. "Oh, Sherlock," she gasped, laying a careful hand on his knee and squeezing fondly. "I never really liked that show, it was just that I thought…well, Jim was supposedly gay, so I thought it was something he'd like to do, that was all! I was desperate for something to connect to him better after that whole slipping-you-his-number thing, for our third date!" The giggles dissolved into full-fledged guffaws, and John found himself laughing as well.

"Which means my last conclusion is correct; I've subjected myself to watching that ridiculous show for nothing," Sherlock said with a pout, causing John and Molly to laugh even harder. Honestly, he was such a child at times! "A complete waste of time," he muttered under his breath, but both Molly and John heard him – and how dejected he sounded.

Molly sobered and leaned over to press a soft kiss to his cheek. "Oh, Sherlock, I'm sorry you wasted your time like that, but I appreciate the effort, I really do. Thank you for doing that for me."

"I didn't want you to think even for one second that I was faking things with you," he replied softly, and suddenly John felt like the proverbial third wheel. He picked up his dinner and headed for the door.

Molly and Sherlock looked over at him with twin expressions of mingled surprise and concern. "I think I'll just go eat this upstairs in my room," he announced. "Molly, you know Sherlock needs to keep hydrated and see if you can get him to eat some of the soup Mrs. Hudson made him." Sherlock pulled a face at that, but John ignored him, still speaking directly to Molly. "And don't let him try to wheedle some of those chips from you," he added, glancing down at the container holding Molly's dinner. "I'd rather keep him out of the hospital for now, thank you very much." Then he smiled and headed for the door.

As he reached the hall, he heard Sherlock calling after him. "As you can see, John, it's fairly easy to work things out with someone once you actually sit down and talk to them!"

Fancy that, John thought sourly as he mounted the stairs to his (temporary) bedroom. Sherlock Holmes giving out relationship advice.

Then he shook his head and settled himself on the bed, determined to finish every bite of his supper before it got any colder than it already was.

But he was thinking about Mary, and the baby, and what Sherlock had said, the entire time.

His friend was right. He needed to talk to his wife, to settle things between them once and for all.

He just needed to figure out the right thing to say to her when he did.

**oOo**

Sherlock didn't even wait for John to reach the stairs before nabbing a handful of Molly's chips and stuffing them into his mouth. "Hey!" she objected, snatching the container out of his reach and standing up. "You know better!"

He grinned around the mouthful of chips, entirely unrepentant, then pouted as she took her dinner and flounced over to John's chair, plopping into it with a frown. "If you can't behave, then I'll just have to stay out of reach."

There was a challenging gleam in Sherlock's eyes as he asked, "Oh? And you don't think I can't just get up and take what I want?"

Molly popped a chip in her mouth, chewed it, then glowered at him. "Of course you can. But you won't, if you know what's good for you."

"But I watched an entire season of 'Glee' in less than two days," he whined. "Doesn't that deserve a reward?"

Molly's expression softened. "Of course it does," she replied, setting the container down on the floor and rising to her feet. She walked back over to the sofa and sank on her knees the way she had when she first arrived, only this time the kiss was to Sherlock's cheek. "There. Thank you for trying to fix something for me, I appreciate it, I really do. Even if it wasn't actually broken in the first place," she added with a giggle.

When she made to rise to her feet, Sherlock grabbed her by the wrist and tugged her back down. "That was a nice reward," he said huskily, pressing her knuckles to his lips. "But it isn't quite what I had in mind."

When John came back downstairs to grab the bottle of vinegar he'd forgotten, he was once again treated to the sight of Sherlock and Molly snogging madly. He sighed, backtracked, and decided it would be best if he just did without.


End file.
